


Handle with Care

by bribees



Category: Smile For Me (Video Game)
Genre: (no violence is explicitly described), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Post-Good Ending (Smile For Me), Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:40:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23254099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bribees/pseuds/bribees
Summary: Boris has a nightmare and deals with it as best he can.It's... easier, now that he isn't alone.
Relationships: Kamal Bora/Dr. Boris Habit
Comments: 4
Kudos: 70





	Handle with Care

Boris jolts awake to the sound of shattering porcelain ringing in his ears.

He'd been a bit naive to think that the nightmares would stop on their own, hadn't he? It's been such a trying time for him, lately, even if he has to admit he's felt better than he has in years. First his lily, meeting Flower for coffee, squeezing a hand much smaller than his while scanning through lists of therapists that dealt with his specific... Problems. So much has changed. So many months have gone by, marked by the Planting Calendar hanging in the kitchen.

So why does he still feel so fragile?

One unintended side effect of therapy, he'd found out, was that sometimes things that he'd intended to keep buried started worming their way up from the densely-packed soil in his mind. Some things helped, putting a name to a fear or a feeling he'd assumed had always just been _him_ , and made it easier to "parse things out", as Flower Kid had put it once in that soft voice of theirs. But more often than not, a passing remark he made to his therapist would lead to something bigger. Off-hand quips, jokes meant to deflect _just_ a little— well, he was a pretty pesky kid, wasn't he! No wonder he wasn't allowed to have many things to himself, after all he tended to get clumsy when he got nervous (and he was always so nervous in that house), his hands would get clammy and things would just slip right out of his grasp and hit the floor! And then the _crash_ , followed by that awful awful silence, then the **_boom boom boom_ ** of his father's footsteps zeroing on him, and then— then— 

Shaking like a leaf, Boris tries his best to breathe in deeply. It's stuttery, and probably a bit louder than it needs to be, but it's a deep breath nonetheless. He does it again and again until his heart stops feeling like it wants out of his chest.

Then he remembers exactly _who_ is currently lying on that same chest, wrapped in his arms.

Kamal hadn't intended on staying the night, not exactly. After a pleasant evening of window shopping, sharing dinner ( _which Boris cooked perfectly!!!_ ) and watching a movie snuggled together on the couch, Kamal had stood up to leave when thunder suddenly rumbled through the house. And sure enough, when they looked out the window to check, it was absolutely pouring. It also just so happened that Kamal was nearly as anxious about driving in bad weather as he was about stairwells. So staying the night wasn't a hard decision to make. (Kamal had laughed when Boris excitedly called it a sleepover, because of course he would.)

Boris' heart slowly warmed and eased back into a normal beat the longer he looked at Kamal. It helped that his calla lily slept like the dead, or else he definitely would have woken him up with that jolt earlier. The man was fast asleep, cheek squished against Boris' chest and snoring softly. His silky black hair was messy with sleep, but his face was slack and peaceful.

Kamal...

The nightmare seemed farther and farther away the more Boris looked at the man cuddled so close to him. Kamal obviously hadn't had the foresight to bring pajamas on their date, so he had to opt for using one of Boris' shirts instead, and the shorter man was practically swimming in it. Boris didn't know why seeing Kamal wear his clothes made him so happy, but it did. There were so many things about Kamal that made him so, so happy.

Earlier, when they were both out window shopping, Kamal had wanted to stop inside an antique store. "Just because there's always all sorts of weird junk in 'em," he'd said. It sounded like fun, and to Kamal's credit, it was! There were old creepy dolls (that Boris, of course, didn't find too off-putting), ancient ads printed on tin signs, and lots of oddly shaped hand-me-down tools that neither of them could figure out the purpose of. But as they were leaving, Boris' eyes had caught a tea set sitting innocently nearby the front window of the shop. It was a soft pink, with shiny milk-white accents swirling around the rim of each cup. He didn't know why looking at it made him feel nervous.

But now he knew. His mother's tea set. When he was younger, he'd been so enamored with the swirling, shiny designs that had adorned each cup that he couldn't help but want a closer look. He'd asked his mother a few times if he could hold one, just for a little bit, and each time she'd tell him to ask his father first. He's the one who had bought it, after all. But that was— well.

So he decided he'd just take a small look for himself. Just to hold it, only for a second! And all it took was a small slip of his fingers to ruin everything.

Boris shook his head, gently as to not risk waking Kamal. (But, again. Like the dead.) He wasn't ready to think that hard about this right now. He should be sleeping. So he imagined himself putting the memory and the nightmare in a box, and putting the box on a shelf. Not out of sight, and definitely not in a locked basement, but just... somewhere else, for now. Or at least until his next therapy appointment. Next Wednesday at 1:00 pm. Only four days from now. He could handle himself until then.

Kamal snorted and murmured in his sleep, and one of his hands twitched like he was trying to grab something. Boris smiled softly and started to run one of his hands down the side of Kamal's head, as softly as he could possibly manage. The twitching died down, and soon Kamal was back to doing an impeccable imitation of a log.

If this had happened a year ago, Habit would have woken up alone. He would've thrown himself headfirst into another panic attack with his own spiraling thoughts, and he definitely wouldn't go back to sleep. He would pace in his office, tearing himself between the want to collapse on the floor and sob until there were no tears left, or pushing himself to turn the awful, frenzied feeling in his chest into something _meaningful_ , something _useful_ , something something _something_ — 

.....

But that was then. And this was now. With the proof that he'd come this far applying a steady and reassuring pressure on his chest, Boris could feel the tides of sleep starting to overtake him again. Kamal was here. He was safe, and he was loved.

Boris closed his eyes, listened to the soft sound of Kamal's breathing, and drifted back into a peaceful sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> it is time 2 project all my emotion on this man who I care abt immensely and want to see grow and improve as a person
> 
> thank you so much for reading!


End file.
